VICKSBURG SONG.[3]
Reading edition
VICKSBURG SONG.[3]
By Capt. J. W. A. Wright.
Air—“A Life on the Ocean Wave.”
A life on the Vicksburg bluff, A home in the trenches deep, Where we dodge “Yank” shells enough— And our old “pea-bread” won’t keep. On “Old Logan’s” beef I pine, For there’s fat on his bones no more; Oh! give me some pork in brine, And “truck” from a sutler’s store. Chorus.—A life on the Vicksburg bluff, A home in the trenches deep, Where we dodge “Yank” shells enough— And our old “pea-bread” won’t keep, Pea-bread, pea-bread, pea-bread; Our old pea-bread won’t keep.
“So we’ll bury ‘Old Logan’ to-night.”
Old Grant is starving us out, Our grub is fast wasting away, Pemb don’t know what he’s about, And he hasn’t for many a day. So we’ll bury “Old Logan” to-night, From tough beef we’ll be set free; We’ll put him far out of sight— No more of his meat for me. Chorus. Texas “steers” are no longer in view, Mule steaks are now “done up brown,” While “pea-bread,” mule roast, and mule stew, Are our fare in old Vicksburg town. And the song of our hearts shall be, While the “Yanks” and their gunboats rave, A life in “bomb-proofs” for me, And a tear o’er “Old Logan’s” grave. Chorus.
